Life Goes On
by Foreseer44
Summary: When the world is torn apart by a mysterious and deadly illness, Shawn and Jasmine must contend with murderous thieves, walking corpses, the harsh elements of the wilderness, and their own demons in order to survive. Warning: Blood, cursing, slight adult themes, and drama ahead.
1. Chapter 1: Rememberance

**Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ After the small success of my first story: Total Drama: Return of the Underdogs, I decided to try out something new. This is a story of Shawn and Jasmine's struggle to survive in a world run by the living dead (totally original, I know.) But I like Shazmine, I like zombies, and I like writing, so why not?**

**The updates will be slower on this one than on my other story, but hopefully it's good enough to be memorable. Feel free to leave reviews, preferably of the constructive type, and follow.**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 1- Rememberance_

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**POV: Shawn**

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I'm running.

That's all I have to do. That's all I can do.

Jasmine is holding onto my outstretched arm as she pulls the both of us through the brush. I try not to trip, but my left thigh is slowly becoming drenched in a fiery pain that threatens to drag me down with each step.

"Just keep going," she says to me. I barely hear her over the crashing of brush.

I look back to see a set of five lights in the distance, each with a relentless owner that will never stop until I finally fall.

"Don't you dare look back!" my girlfriend scolds me. "Just keep running!"

My forehead is seeping with sweat and I involuntarily stumble on my own feet. When I hit the ground, Jasmine forcefully grabs my orange vest and lifts me to my feet. It's not long before my injured leg gives out and my body collapses to the forest floor.

"Shawn?!" she says in a panic, unsure of my ability to continue. "Shawn?!"

I feel her long arms scoop me up. My vision is fading and I know I'm going to black out from the pain. I grip her rough leather jacket and hold on for my life.

"Hold in there. It's just a bit longer."

I can hear the despair in her voice, but I can't comfort her like I've always done and its killing me more than my wound is. For over a year, we've had each other's backs every step of the way. From that wretched reality show to the deserted deserts of the out back, we've always been able to take care of each other. But now is different. I'm helpless. I'm hurt. My life and hers rests on her shoulders, and I can't do anything about it. For the first time in my career as a survivalist, I'm the one who needs help. I'm the one who won't survive. I'm the one with the problem.

Jasmine stumbles a bit and I feel my injured limb rub against the ground. A sharp pain jets through my leg and I let out a yelp.

"Keep it down," she whispers. "Were almost there."

I try to say something to her, but all I can muster is a dry croak. I look behind her arm and notice that the lights are still following us, albeit a bit farther away than before. It's not good news, but it gives me a sense of hope that allows me to stay conscious.

Before I know it, my body is gently set down on the ground . When my leg touches the soil, it burns like the devil.

Jasmine grabs me by the shoulders and looks my in the eyes. I can see the fear peaking through her stern face.

"Don't make another sound, you hear me. Just stay down and keep quiet. This might hurt."

Before I can attempt to speak, she tears off a piece of her undershirt and looks down at my leg. Her face is a composition of fear, sorrow, anger, and every other emotion possible.

She reaches down to my wounded leg and pulls my blood-soaked pant leg up to my knee. I see her look up and she kisses my lips before I feel the pain spike. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before.

As I grind my teeth, I feel a tightening sensation a couple of inches below my kneecap.

"That should stop the bleeding," she says under her breath. "Hopefully."

She opens her mouth to speak again and is cut off by a much deeper and more masculine voice. "Are you sure they went this way? You better not be screwin' with me!"

A faint and mellow voice responds. "Y-yes sir! I know they went this way. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, then where are the assholes!?" the owner of the deep voice asks with rage.

"They have to be close, I saw blood, and footprints, and-"

"I don't give two shits about blood and prints! I want their heads on stakes in front of camp!"

Jasmine puts a finger over her mouth and looks at me with desperation. I nod as best as I can. I can see the lights of our pursuers shining onto to slope below me and I examine my surroundings. We're behind what appears to be a tree. I'm facing a steep hill that fades into the black.

"Look dude," comes another voice. "It's late, and you know what happens after dark. Let's just get back to camp and we can look tomorrow. They're probably dead by now and you're putting us all in danger."

The angry man calms down. "All right. We can do that," he says enthusiastically.

I hear a gunshot followed by screams. I jump a bit and my eyes slam shut.

"Anyone else want to challenge my authority? Huh, anyone?" the man asks. Silence follows. "Just what I thought. Now get your lazy asses up and runnin' cause we're looking until I say we can stop! Got it?!" More silence. "Good," the murderer says maliciously. He sounds amused. He's obviously done this before, and not just to lurkers.

I hear footsteps passing by and the lights disappear into the thicket. My leg is still on fire, but I'm slowly coming back to full consciousness.

Jasmine grabs my trembling hand. She's shaking too. I feel her majestic arms wrap around my shoulders and I'm brought a small bit of comfort.

She kisses me again and sighs. "It's gonna be a long night."

I reach over and touch her arm, but she backs off to my dismay.

"I'll keep up guard. You need your rest," she says.

I smile and open my mouth. "Thanks," I say quietly.

Jasmine walks a few feet down the hill and takes a seat. She looks back at me and the moonlight allows me to see a tear rolling down her cheek as she smiles.

I smile back and close my eyes, ignoring the pain. "We have to make it," I think to himself. "You've been training your entire life, Shawn. It's up to you to save her. You have to."

I lean my head back onto the tree behind me and take a deep breath. This is it. This is what I've prepared for. It's hell on Earth.

* * *

**Two Weeks Earlier...**

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**(Day 4)**

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I open my eyes to see a drab ceiling of grey. It's only a reminder of what's happened so far. Life has gone to hell, and we're at the center of it.

The snore of my partner in the cot next to mine is music to my ears. I adore her with all my heart. She's my drive. I turn my body to look at her. My cot squeaks when I move, but it doesn't wake her.

"Poor Jasmine," I say to myself. Memories of the past come flowing back, but I decide to block them. They're no use to me now. No use to us, that is. The days of Total Drama, loads of money, and cage fighting and flower shops are dead. And so are the people. So many people.

I close my eyes as I yawn and dangle my legs over the edge of the bed.

My bare feet touch the cold tiles and I shiver. It's been a handful of days, but my life is still out of order. I thought I had prepared for the dead to rise, but I was wrong. I had only lived out a fantasy. This was no fantasy. It was life and death. Still, I remain strong-willed and focused.

I tiptoe across the room, making sure not to wake Jasmine, and leave through the doorway and into a long hallway.

After I take a deep breath, I stroll down the bright corridor and open the bathroom door. Inside is the standard set-up. A toilet, a sink, a mirror. It's just like the old times.

"No," I think. "Don't remember the old ways. Survival is key. It's all that matters."

I turn on the faucet and dip my hands into the stream of cold water. With my hands, I raise the water to my face and clean myself off. Three days underground isn't the cleanest experience after all.

More memories come back. My fear still controls me, but not as severely as it once did. Jasmine on the other hand is plagued by her claustrophobia. Every time she stands up, she's forced to duck below the doorways and kneel in order to get around. It's actually somewhat of a hindrance. What if she holds me back? No, I can't think that way. I promised myself I'd keep her safe. But what's more important, my life or her life?

I shake off my cluelessness and begin to clean my teeth. It's sad that life has grown so boring in three days that merely flossing of all things is becoming my new hobby. Flossing!

When I finish cleaning my teeth, I hear a loud thump from the bedroom. I think about calling out to Jasmine, but my fear sets in. I can't move and ask myself if she's possibly turned in her sleep. What if she died? What if she's coming to eat my brains?!

Then I hear her voice rattling through the hall. "Shawn? Was that you?"

"I'm just cleaning up," I say as I wipe my face with a towel. Her Australian accent fills me with hope and relief. "I'll be out in a sec."

After spending over ten minutes in the bathroom cleaning up, a new record, I look into the bedroom to see Jasmine trying to stand up. She's nervous.

"It's okay," I say. "It's not too cramped, right?"

She sighs and nods. "Can you help me out of the room?"

"Sure," I tell her. Sadly, I have second thoughts. If we're gonna be living underground for the rest of eternity, she has to get over her fear of tight spaces. It just won't work out, and both of us know it. When she and I have to fight zombies, I can't help her all the time. It just won't happen. So, I change my mind.

"Well, uh, how about you try it yourself," I say in the nicest way possible. "You need to get over your fear if you're gonna live here forever."

She looks at me with a hint of disdain. "Really?" she says. "You know I can't just get over it. You've known for a full year!"

"Sorry," I wince. "I just don't want you getting hurt if we have to fight anyone."

Her frown fades to a smile. "Alrighty then. I'll try on my own." She stands up and her head is only a foot or so from the ceiling. I notice her arms shaking and decide to help her anyways.

"Here," I say as I take her hand. As we exit the room and Jasmine ducks under the doorway, I can only think about how easier it would be if I had kept the full prize. Larger rooms? Weaponized pillows? A panic room inside the panic room? Taller doors? An eye scan security system? A snack machine? Nope. Nothing but a five room bunker with a bathroom, a bedroom, a supply room, a panic room, and two above ground exits, the worst kind of exit imaginable. What if someone busted in? We'd be zombie snacks for sure!

But what happened to Jasmine's half of the money? It went into a horrible idea that never got off the ground. I want to call her out for wasting it on such a pathetic idea when the money could have been used to perfect my, er, our bunker, but of course, she never believed in zombies. She thought I was loony, a joke, and wasting my time. But look at us now. The dead have risen and I was right all along. We're stuck underground, and I'm glad I trained for it. Jasmine on the other hand, never bothered to train or prep or whatever she calls it. One minute she's in my living room and the next she's crawling down a ladder and into the darkness of the bunker.

I slowly help Jasmine along until she and I reach the kitchen. It's the largest room in the bunker, if only to provide extra storage space, so Jasmine can find a bit of comfort here.

She's sits down at the table and looks at me. "What's for breakfast? Canned beans again?"

She knows me too well. "Yeah, it's uh, fine with you, right?"

She sighs and rests her elbows on the table. "Sure, but I just wish you packed a little more variety. Got any eggs, or pancakes, or bacon?"

"I'll check," I say. I walk over to the storage pantry marked 'Breakfast/Medicine' and hold the combination lock in my hands. I turn to Jasmine and test her. "You know the combo, right?"

She taps her chin in deep thought. "Uh, three, nine, two?"

I shake my head. "Nope. It's three, nine, eight."

She suddenly snaps. "Well, how can you expect me to know every damn code in the place in just three days! Give me some time!"

"Sorry," I sigh. After I open the doors, I fiddle through the canned goods. Beans. Beans. Beans. Green Beans. Beans. Bean. Cream of broccoli soup. Beans. Beans. Peas. Beans. Oh, spam!

I turn back to her and ask her, "How about some spam, huh?"

She looks at me in disapproval, but doesn't answer.

"Or maybe not," I say before putting the canned meat back on the shelf. She's too picky. When you're on the run from walkers, you don't have time to look through food pantries for bacon and eggs. And even though we're locked underground, it could happen. I never got the good security system I wanted, so a zombie horde could bust in with enough luck.

"Oh, forget it, Shawn," she says. "Just make beans, already. That clattering and clanking is driving my sanity up a tree."

"You sure?"

"I just said I was fine with baked beans ! Did you not hear me?!"

I hate it when she gets angry, and being in my zombie shelter is only making it worse on her temper. "I heard ya."

I pull out one of the cans from the back of the shelf, as you should always eat the older food before it goes to waste. Jasmine grabs a small, stainless steel pot and sets it on the electric stove. With everything running on solar power, we have unlimited energy unless the sun goes down or we get a storm overhead. It hasn't been to bad so far. We lost power at night on the first day and Jasmine nearly wet herself over it.

A small can opener is all I need to open the can of beans and I pour the food into the pot. As I turn on the hot plate, I hear a rumble from the surface world. Thunder. Looks like I spoke too soon.

Jasmine and I stand in silence as the beans cook and the thunder rumbles. I want to have a nice discussion with her, but she's probably too peeved right now. Her life has pulled a 180 and might stay this way forever. If only she was as prepared as I was.

When the beans are done, I pull two bowls out of the dish rack and pour an equal amount into each. I set them down on the table and dig in with my spoon. Jasmine is just playing with them. Once again, I fail to say anything. I don't know what to say her. Jasmine's stuck here with me, might have lost her family, and has to live here forever. I guess it must be harder on her than it is for me. I'm not worried about my parents. They were away when the outbreak started and were trained by me for years, not that they listened though. They took my wisdom as a joke, just like Jasmine.

"Zombies?" they would say. "You need to stop playing those horror games on your computer. They're filling your rotting mind with all sorts of crazy ideas."

As much as I loved them, I knew my parents wouldn't last in an apocalypse. They were too naive. I'm afraid that Jasmine is in the same boat. She might have survival skills, peak physical condition, and a great body, but unless she wises up about the realism of what's happening above ground, she's mincemeat.

I wish I could read her mind. She's holding back her feelings, and I know she could break down and cry at any given moment. The pressure is too much.

But even if she's not ready, I am. And I'm ready to take her to the end with me, no matter what the cost. I don't want to be alone in a world on fire or I'll get engulfed by the flames.

I look down to my beans to discover that I've eaten all of them and have been scooping up air instead. Jasmine hasn't even touched them yet, or so I think.

It's going to be a long time before things go back to normal, if they do at all. I know it won't end, and I've been ready since I was ten years old. But until that day might come, life will go on. We will survive. Life goes on.

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**~A/N~ I've never written Shazmine before, so I just pray that they're not OOC. This was a different experience for me, as I rarely write in a first person point of view, so I hope it went well. Feel free to leave a review or PM me if you have any suggestions**


	2. Chapter 2: Dreams

**Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ Two chapters in one day is a new record. Sadly, this is really short, but oh well. Thanks to those who fav'd and reviewed. I promise we'll get to some action and suspense, but for now, enjoy the Shazmine. And just a reminder, the story will switch from two points of view from chapter to chapter. Just letting you know ahead of time. And don't forget to review!**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 2 - Dreams_

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**POV: Jasmine**

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**(Day 4)**

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Shawn remains silent as he heats up the beans. He wants to say something and I can see it in his eyes. I want to say something too, but it wouldn't go over well with my boyfriend.

For three days, I've been locked away by Shawn and his fear of zombies. I scoff to myself. The funniest thing is that Shawn never actually saw the 'zombies' in person. We were just sitting in bed and watching the news when an alert flashed up on the screen. I've forgotten exactly what it had said, something about an outbreak of the flu? It doesn't matter to Shawn. As soon as he saw the alert, he dragged me out of the house, against my will I might add, and pushed me into his stupid bunker.

For over three hours, he locked us away inside the storage room and sat in the corner with a handgun at the ready. I thought he was actually going insane... oh wait. He is insane! But I won't tell that to his face. I'd break his heart.

Shawn makes two bowls of food and sets one in front of me. I pick up my spoon and swirl it around the bowl. He looks at me in silence.

I almost start a conversation, but I back out. Nothing I say will get by his stubborn skull. But to be fair, none of my complaints can really make a difference anyway. Can he make the ceiling higher? No. Can he drop his irrational fear and open the hatch to get some fresh air? No. Can he get some food that isn't canned beans or spam? No.

I know I mean a lot to him, but I question whether or not he has his head on straight. When he led us down here, he made sure that I was comfortable, but he totally ignored my plan of actually checking outside. He said it was too dangerous. He doesn't know the first thing about danger. When he's bitten by a snake and rushed to the hospital in a chopper, he'll know what danger is. When he gets malaria and almost dies, he'll know what danger is.

When he finishes his beans, he begins staring into space and continues to scoop at his empty bowl. I should tell him to snap out of it, but it's actually entertaining. Instead, I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

Sometimes I feel as if I made a bad choice with my selection of guys. Shawn is smart, cute, and funny, but the guy is off the charts with his paranoia. I don't even think he's worried about his family. And even if he was, I doubt he'd actually care enough to go outside and find a phone to make sure that they're fine and dandy.

I've become flustered by his arrogance. At the first sight of trouble, he locks us underground. Then he wants me to change so it's easier to live with me.

The worst part is that there are no zombies. All he saw was that someone got really sick. That's it! One person is sick, and Shawn does what Shawn always does.

I love him, but it's only been three days and I've considered opening the bunker while he's sleeping, if only to check and prove that there's nothing outside. But he'd school me on safety if I did that, and I despise his infamous lectures on anti-zombie tactics. I'm fine with schoolwork, but when your boyfriend assigns you an essay on zombie weaknesses for homework, you know he has a problem.

He opens his mouth to say something. Please be something that makes sense.

"So uh, what time do ya' think it is?"

My heart drops a bit. "About 1100 hours," I say. I'm not sure at all. I lost track of time when I tried to sleep on the first day.

"Oh," he says to me. "That's about right, I think."

It's now or never. I must have a meaningful talk with the guy.

"So," I say. "When can we look outside? I haven't heard anything unnatural and the news never said-"

"Never. We never look outside."

I narrow my eyes and clench my fists. "Shawn, listen to me. The news alert said that there was some kind of new virus, not an apocalypse. You need to think rationally and stop trying to prepare for the worst." He actually listened.

"Jasmine, I would if I could, but this is a life and death situation. I know a zombie virus when I see one, and this was definitely a zombie virus. You can't expect me to lower my guard when my brains are in danger."

"So you'd rather be locked away for years than to know for sure?" I ask him. He puts his hands on the table and leans over.

"We. Have to. Survive. If you want to die then go ahead and open the door. Let us both be eaten, why don't ya."

There's got to be a way to get it into his thick skull that this is insane. I think, and think, and think, but nothing comes to mind.

"I gave you half of the money," he says. "I was fair and listened to you, so it's only fair if you listened to me. Is that okay with you?"

I look him in the eye and try to plead. "Shawn, I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye on this zombie ordeal, but it's been three whole days. It won't hurt to check just once. Please, listen to me."

He shakes his head in defiance. "I'm sorry, but I can't expose the bunker to anyone or anything that might eat me alive. I have to save both of us, and letting the horde in won't help."

Maybe I'm going insane. There's no use in trying to reason with him. Splitting the money was one thing, but when you mess with his beliefs, you better be prepared to argue. It's not worth it, even if I want out of the shelter for good. Shawn's a lost cause, and I've come to accept that.

Shawn sighs and grabs my hand. "I'd do a lot for you, Jasmine. I'd split a million bucks with you. I'd fight an army of robots for you. But this is about survival. I want to help, but some things aren't in my control. Like the state of the world, for instance. I'll do what I can, but I have a lot on my plate."

I feel somewhat remorseful for demanding something so outrageous from him, but I have to change his mind eventually, right? I tell him, "I know," and we kiss.

He opens his mouth again. "Plus, being down here means that we always get to be around each other. It's way easier than driving seven hours, right?"

I try to see the bright side. "Right. I guess that's one good thing that came outta' this, er, problem." I don't want to call it an apocalypse. That will only assure him that this is a serious matter, zombies or no zombies.

"So," he says to me. "I guess we should clean these bowls, huh."

"Sure," I say with false delight. "There's not much else to do around here besides cleanin' an' sleeping, is there?"

Shawn smiles. "Not unless we get overrun by biters. Wait, why am I smiling at that? That's a horrible thought!" He starts to panic.

Of course. Shawn will always be Shawn. There's no changing that.

* * *

As we clean the dishes together, I look at the potted plants that Shawn placed above the sink. He said that they'd give us an oxygen supply, but they symbolize more than just oxygen. They symbolize dreams. My dreams, as a matter of fact.

I scrub away at the pot in my hands and remember how stupid I was. After I left Total Drama, I immediately pushed my share of Shawn's cash into my flower shop and cage fighting school. I had no idea that it would fail so fast. No one showed up to buy anything on the first day except for one old woman who wanted a bouquet of roses for her husband, and one fat man who thought it was a steakhouse. We only made three-thousands dollars in sales by the end of the first month and my mom and I were forced to shut down. But what came after was worse. The building that we built and sold was turned into an adult video store. I still imagine that old woman walking into that shop looking for roses and having a heart attack. It's sad that the thought of a dying woman gives me a laugh, but it's true.

Shawn never cared about my shop. He was probably glad that it shut down so he could rub it in my face, something he never did. I feel horrible about throwing away half of Shawn's money like that, but I guess some dreams weren't meant to be fulfilled after all.

I put the cleaned pot on the drying rack and look down at my boyfriend. "Shawn?"

He looks up at me. "Yeah?"

I look him in the eye and exhale slowly. "Will we ever leave this bunker? I need an honest answer, because we can't stay here forever. You know that, right?"

He stays silent and looks at his potted plants for a moment. "When we have to."

There it is. My glimmer of hope. Shawn might finally understand. He might be coming to his senses.

"So?" I ask him. "When might that be?"

He sighs. "Whenever we have to. If we run out of food or water, then hypothetically, we'll have to open the hatch."

I finally have him where I need him. This is my chance to pop the big question.

"But if we do leave, if only for a minute," he says. I await his final words. "Then we might not like what we see."

"So, maybe we should look outside now," I say. "We need to know what we're dealing with, right?" I've decided to play along. It's the only way to get things into his head without him ignoring them.

"Since when are you a believer?" Shawn asks me suspiciously. "Yesterday, and even today, you said that there were no zombies. You said I was overreacting."

Crap. So much for that tactic. "Well, I might have jumped to conclusions."

"Really?" Shawn says in disbelief. "You said that I jumped to conclusions on day one. Look if you want to go outside, then you have to know that you might get your brains eaten in under a minute." He drops his gaze to the floor. "I just don't want you to get hurt. You're a huge part of my life, Jazz."

My heart warms at the mention of my nickname. I grab his hands and smile. "Look, I'll be fine. I might not have zombie training, but I have enough common sense to know what to do in a sticky situation."

Shawn smiles back at me. We lock eyes.

"Alright," he says to me. "I trust you. Just don't try anything stupid, and I'll lay back on the zombie stuff. Deal?"

"Deal."

I feel a weight lifting off of my chest. It's far from totally gone, but I'm finally feeling a little more free in this other land down under.

* * *

**~A/N~ Da feels, guys. Da feels. *Sniffle***

**Hopefully I didn't botch Shawn and Jasmine yet, but if I did, let me know in a review. It's my biggest worry right now, and any help is well appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3: Revelation

**Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ After having this chapter done for a week or two, I was considering putting this story on hold until my competition story was completed, but oh well. Updates will be slow, so don't expect weekly chapters like with my other story. Reviews are highly appreciated.**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 3- Revelation_

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**POV: Shawn**

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**(Day 11)**

* * *

It's been over a week since Jasmine and I had our argument. Or, at least I think it's been a week. She calls it a talk, but I know it as a fight. I'm only trying to keep us safe and opening the bunker to the lurkers would only serve to complicate things. I'm not sure what she doesn't get. Does she think I'm lying about the zombies? If so, she's in for a shock when we see the surface. Well, if we see the surface, that is. I'm not convinced that it's a good idea in the slightest.

She thinks I actually listened to her and took her ideas into account, but she's as gullible as she was on the show. It's kind of her weakness. That, and tight spaces. She ain't perfect, but I wouldn't take it any other way.

For the past few days, life has gone on just the same. I adapted to bunker life pretty quick, but Jasmine still has a long way to go until she's ready to live here. Each day is basically the same. We wake up, wash off, eat breakfast, train with weapons, eat dinner, and sleep. It's not a rigorous schedule, but for Jasmine it's the worst thing ever. She loves fresh air and the outdoors, so I can understand where she's coming from. Do I think of it as my top priority? Not at all.

But what is my top priority? Other than survival, I have to fix up the old radio I found in one of the old boxes in the storage room. Once I get it back on line, I can prove to Jasmine that zombies exist and find out where potential safe zones are in the case that we're forced to bug out. But I don't want to bug out unless the bunker is breached. In all honesty, I don't even have a bug out bag ready to go for either of us.

After I eat breakfast, I mark out the twelfth day on our calendar, a Wednesday. I'm not sure what day it is, but whenever I wake up is the start of a new day for me.

"So," Jasmine says. "How's the old radio comin' along?"

"Not much better than yesterday," I explain. "The wires are still messed up and the power cord needs some repairs, but it's comin' along, I guess."

"Well maybe I could help," she says to me with a grin.

I have to tell her no. This radio is my only hope and I can't have her ruining it by accident."Sorry, Jazz, but I don't think you're too good with technology. Don't take it the wrong way, but I think I'd be better off alone."

"Oh, o-of course," she mutters. "My big hands probably aren't the best, huh?"

I have to keep her spirits high. "No, but they are good for weapons training. Why don't ya' go try out that samurai sword I brought. You said you liked using it, plus it fits you pretty well. What do you think?"

She sighs in apparent disappointment. "Oh, alright."

Once Jasmine walks off into the armory, I rush into the bedroom and take a seat at my desk where the radio is sitting. I look over the diagrams I've drawn over the past couple days and get to work.

As I tinker with the disconnected wires inside the radio, I can hear Jasmine striking the crash test dummy in the armory. I'm glad that she's getting used to life in the bunker, but I can't help but think she's planning something. She's been growing closer to me every day. So close in fact that it almost feels like she's sucking up to me. I love her company, but it doesn't feel all too sincere.

I connect another snapped wire and pull up my magnifying glass. Looking at all of the broken wires reminds me of the world right now. Everything is in shambles and incredibly difficult to put back in place. I know we can't fix it. It's not happening. Most of my research concluded that if the government doesn't resolve the zombie situation in two weeks or less, it's all over for the human race unless it finds a way to cope with the new world. I've already prepared for this day, but Jasmine never expected it. I almost feel sorry for her.

The whacking stops in the armory. She must've gotten tired. I connect another pair of wires and wipe the sweat from my brow. I'm almost done, it seems. But like the apocalypse, things can always take a turn for the worse.

That night, I roll over, toss, and turn in my cot. I can't sleep, and for a good reason. I have to work on the radio. It's the only thing that keeps me busy and focused. But Jasmine doesn't like being woken up at night, or whenever it is right now. I look at the radio on the table to try to close my eyes. It doesn't work.

I bite my lip and look at Jasmine as she sleeps. If she wakes up, she won't be happy and I'll never hear the end of it. I have to do something, or I'll stay an insomniac forever.

I decide to put on my shirt and slowly move out of bed. The cot squeaks, but Jasmine remains snoring. So far so good.

Being as quiet as possible, I sneak out of the room with the radio in hand and lock myself inside the supply room. This is it. Only a few hours to go until I can get in touch with the outside world.

* * *

**(Day 14)**

* * *

I wake up with my face covered in wet, sloppy drool.

"How long was I awake last night?" I ask myself.

The radio is still sitting on the table in front of me and the door is still locked. I look at the radio to see that it's close to being finished, or so I believe. I've never worked with technology much before, but I've done it enough to know how to hot wire a car, so a radio can't be much different.

I hear a knock at the door. "Shawn? You in there?"

I hurry over to the door and let Jasmine inside. She has bags under her eyes and looks drained.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask her.

"No. You?"

"No," I tell her. "I want to get this radio working, and I'm almost done. Only another three wires left, and I can show you how awful the world is."

"Whateva' you say. I'm gonna go back to bed." She leaves the room and closes the door before I can say anything. I'm glad too. If she wasn't tired, she'd be pushing me to open the hatch.

My attention is turned back to the radio. As I fiddle with the wires yet again, my mind drifts to the news alert that started this. All I remember is that a load of people got sick at a hospital in northern Ontario and that the patients were attacking the staff. That was enough for me to know when to retreat underground. Jasmine just doesn't understand, does she? She's just going along with this out of her fear of the unknown. If it was just her alone, she would be be dead by now. A walking corpse in a field of thousands. But thanks to me, she's safe. For now at least.

I put the last wire in place and hope for the best. A faint crackle squeaks through the speaker. I instantly turn up the volume and listen closer. There's a voice.

"Zo... secure... seventy thr... A is... thirty percent... danger... fourth qua..."

It stops and I open the door to find Jasmine. She's in the bedroom trying to sleep, so waking her up would be a bad idea. But it's worth it.

I grab her shoulder. "Jasmine, quick! It works!"

"What?" she asks. "It's working. The radio?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just come on!" I grab her arm and pull her through the doorway and into the supply room where the radio is still crackling.

We listen close.

"Virus... read... five kilo... no one... street... houses... find... rabid..."

"Dear God," Jasmine gasps. "That isn't..."

"I think it is," I say. "I was right. The virus was a zombie virus, and I was right."

Jasmine stares at the radio as it spouts out more fuzzy messages. I see a tear drip down her face and she starts hyperventilating.

"Jasmine, calm down," I say as calmly as I can. "Its alright."

"No, no it's not!" she panics. "Are you even hearing this? It's an apocalypse and we're trapped underground in a tight bunker."

I'm hurting inside. I knew this was happening and had my mind prepared for it. But Jasmine, she didn't have a clue. This is so sudden for her, and I can't understand her feelings. I try to calm her down again with my soothing voice.

"Look," I tell her. I grab onto the tuner on the radio. "Let's see what else is-"

The door slams and I hear her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Shit. This can't be good.

I open the door and run down the corridor as fast as I can. I notice the lights are flickering, as if somethings wrong with the solar power. When I reach the bedroom door, I reach for the doorknob and shake it around trying to get it to open up.

"Jasmine!" I hear myself shout. "Open up!"

"No," she says from inside. "I can't come out."

And I thought I was a little paranoid. Jasmine's going over the cliff of sanity and now she's isolated herself. She should know that solitude and zombies don't go together. Not that she ever cared about my lectures though.

"Please," I beg. "Hiding won't do you any good."

Silence. The lights flicker again as I listen close.

"Jasmine?" I ask as my hands begin to shake.

More silence. Something's wrong with her. I know she's strong-willed, but I didn't know how she'd react to the revelation. I regret ever showing her the broadcast. And now I'm actually regretting coming down here and taking her down with me. For the first time in my life, I loathe my intelligence, and it's scary. I'm just... confused. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate life.

Then without the slightest bit of warning, the lights blackout and the bunker is submerged in darkness. Like I said, I hate life.

* * *

**~A/N~ Honestly, I'm not really feeling this story, if you catch my drift. This is really just an attempt at something new and it's a bit rushed, so my attention is set on bigger fish that need frying, literally ;)**

**Review if you like it or have any advice on how to fix the problems that I know are there. I'm not afraid of criticism, I love it, but flaming is highly unnecessary and won't help me improve this story.**


	4. Chapter 4: Shadows

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Fresh Tv. I own nothing.**

**~A/N~ Well, I figure that it's about time to get back on this. I wasn't really getting into it, but I know quite a few of you like it, so I just want to get past the early bumps in the road and get to the meat of the plot. Without any further interruption, enjoy!**

* * *

_Life Goes On: Chapter 4 - Shadows_

* * *

**POV: Jasmine**

* * *

**(Day 14)**

* * *

The lights of the bunker go out and leave me in darkness, cramped into a small room without a light. Shawn is outside the door, frantically slamming into it in an attempt to get in, but I'm too shocked to let him inside.

Everything has changed. Until now, I was playing along with Shawn and his far-fetched zombie drama, but after he built the radio and I learned just how wrong I was, everything in my mind had been flipped upside down; topsy-turvy: games to survival, prison to shelter, laughs to pain and misery. My life was different from now on. It might never go back to simpler times. I'm not ready, but Shawn is. Seeing him so gleeful about the end of the world is so surreal.

"Jasmine! Open the door! _Please_!" He bellows commands at the top of his lungs as I stay still, crouched in a corner with shivers running down my shaking body.

"You have to open the door!"

I remain quiet, but my mind wants to cry out for help, as if my will to speak had been shattered by my fears. It's never happened to me before, the alien feeling. I've always been so bold, but now I'm a victim; a survivor.

"Jasmine!" Shawn weeps. "_Please_!"

The darkness has blinded me and my paranoia has been taken to a whole new level. The calm, quiet bunker, mixed with Shawn's pleas and screams is truly bone chilling.

"Listen!" he stutters. "If you need light, there are glow sticks under the bed inside a survival pack! Do it! Now!"

I try to heed his word and move my arms a bit, but it's helpless at this point. Getting hit with the end of the world isn't exactly welcome with open arms. However, I do manage to get my foot out from my crouched body and shove it under the bed. It touches cloth and I push it in deeper to try to hook the sack with my leg and pull it to my side.

"I got it..." I moan quietly as I pull the back to my side and search for the zipper with my trembling digits.

"Good!" Shawn cheers. "Now look in the left side, bottom pocket for a bag of sticks about eight inches long!"

My hand traces the edges of the bad until I find a pocket. I'm not sure if it's the one but I open it anyways. Something's inside, but it feels like gauze or cloth. I toss it aside and quickly search the next pocket. I feel my hand touch plastic and I pull it out: a bag about eight inches long. I weep tears of joy and fear as I rip it open and snap one of the sticks inside. A small glow fills my hands and in time expands to light my corner of the bedroom.

"I- I did it!" I weep happily. "I got them!"

"Nice!" Shawn replies from outside. "Now hurry and open the-"

Suddenly, the sound of clanking metal shatters the dead silence and Shawn gasps as a hiss fills the air. My boyfriend screams a deathly howl as something smashes against the door one last time.

"Shawn?!" I cry out. "Shawn!"

The sound of footsteps approach the door and I pause in dread. I hear whispering from outside the bedroom and then the silence returns. Using all my willpower and whatever strength my legs possess, I stand up and slowly make my way across the dark room, illuminating as I go. My shallow breathing invokes panic in my heart.

When I finally reach the door, I grasp the doorknob as best possible and take a deep breath to calm my wild, hyperactive nerves. My hand turns with the knob and the door squeals before hitting something in the way. I look down and see Shawn's arm on the floor, still attached to his shoulder.

I gasp and push the door open, leaning down to embrace him. However, the act is short-lived. Something smashes my face and I fall down, the pain in my nose fading as I delve into unconsciousness.

* * *

I slowly open my eyes as the throbbing in my head peaks. My vision is blurry and I close my eyes instinctively. I gain my sense of feeling in my body and feel around. I'm not on the ground anymore, as far as I can tell. I touch something cold and hard: wood.

It's now that I sense the tightness around my belly in the form of a metal cable, evident by its coldness on my midriff. My eyes open again and I can see somewhat clearly now, but not perfectly.

Something warm touches me and I gasp in shock as Shawn groans from behind me. I try to vocalize, but my throat is sore from dehydration. All I can do I croak inaudibly.

By now I can tell that we're still in our bunker, albeit tied to chairs, back to back. I look around and see a lantern sitting on the kitchen counter with the shelves above it stripped of food. The floor is littered with trash and cutlery that reflects the glow of the lantern, the only light I can see from my limited position.

Something shuffles in the hallway and I pause as someone moves by the kitchen, stopping to peek inside. I try to play dead, but the person spots my movement.

"Hey, Jake!" he shouts in a deep voice. "The bitch is up!"

Another set of footsteps approaches the kitchen. Another man chuckles. "Well, well, well. Look who's up an' runnin' at this fine hour!"

The man reaches out to me and pulls me into the light of his own lantern. I get a good look at his face. He has brown hair that is shaven to nearly nothing, a gruff, tired face with a few wrinkles, and stained teeth from years of smoking. His breath makes me gag a bit as he smiles a few inches from my face.

"You've been out for quite a while," he says with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I can't wait to get to know you a little more... personally."

The creep factor of the man sky-rockets and I begin to growl, but he grabs my face and squeezes my lips together.

"Now don't go an' get angry. Everyone learns to warm up to me eventually. Sometimes all it takes is one... kiss." He leans forward and attaches his lips to mine as I struggle in my chair to break free to no avail. His mouth and tongue survey my own, allowing his stench to penetrate my nose and cause my gag reflex to kick in.

He breaks the kiss of death and smiles, licking his lips. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private, huh?"

I want to spout out the most vile, perverse, and strongest verbal attack I can, but all I can do is growl and snarl in anger. I've been violated and the only thing on my mind is bashing the man's face in with a rock.

"Nah, I'm playing," he grins. "I ain't got time for you... yet."

"Hey," the other man taps the pervert on his shoulder. "You said I had first crack at her!"

"Well, I changed my mind," he snarls back. "Plus, I'm only reason we got this place to begin with."

Th smaller man shakes his head and leaves the room. The other man, Jake, looks down at me and smiles a wicked grin. "Don't worry, pup. I'll be back soon."

Jake walks out of the kitchen and I let the tears flow. My space has been broken and I couldn't do anything about it. Even Shawn, who's still out cold, couldn't do anything about it, but suddenly he stirred.

"What..." he groaned. "What happened?"

"Shawn?" I whisper through my croaks.

"Jasmine, you're okay!" he gasps.

"Quiet," I hiss. "They... caught us."

"What? Who? Where are we?"

"The bunker... bandits."

Shawn sobs. "No. No, this can't happen. I prepared forever and now... it's wasted. They had to have... cut the power."

"They're... bad."

"I can tell."

Silence follows.

"What do we do?" I moan.

"I don't know," he answers.

For the first time in two years, Shawn is clueless. He's always had some wacky solution to any problem we faced, but now we're both in the dark on how to overcome _this._ If Shawn is drawing a blank, that means it's not looking good for our lives at this point. I keep crying and gasping for breath, each movement of air stinging my throat like needles.

A hear more footsteps approach and turn to see a young man much different and younger than the other two. His head has been shaved like those of the other men, but he has a small tuft of hair on his chin and a rather blocky face.

"Sup," he says.

I glare at him with Shawn doing the same.

"Tough crowd, I guess," he chuckles, leaning against the doorway. "You might want to get used to that setup, babe. You might be in that chair for a while. The same for you, hipster," he says, pointing at Shawn.

The young man looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on his name. I know I've seen him before, perhaps on television, but I'm drawing a blank.

"Yeah," he yawns. "I'm not like Jake and Bobby. I have places to be, you know. They don't even care about their lives. Just goes to show ya' how pedos are born, huh?"

I growl at the man and he smiles. "But hey, Papa Duncan has his integrity."

Duncan. I know him now. The finalist of Total Drama Action and the strongest player in the history of the game. A fellow veteran is standing before me and Shawn and I gasp.

"What?" Duncan asks. "Ya' recognize me or something?"

"You," Shawn says.

"Uh, yeah. Me."

"_The _Duncan?" he asks again.

"The one and only," the delinquent says with an arrogant tone to his voice.

Well, maybe we might have to chance after all. A familiar face is always welcome, even in the darkest of times and places. We might have a chance. A chance to break free.

* * *

**~A/N~ Well, that happened. Also, Duncan's here! Sorry if these chapters seem short, but I just can't make them that long. Anyways, review if you liked the return of this story and tell me what I need to improve upon, because I'm still not in the groove if you catch my drift. :P**


	5. Chapter 5: Hatred

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Fresh Tv. I own nothing.**

**~A/N~ Well, I guess I'm back on track with this one now. I have a few good ideas as far as the plot is concerned, and playing some zombie games really got me in the mood. So, without further ado, I present...**

* * *

_Life Goes On: Chapter 5 - Hatred_

* * *

**POV: Shawn**

* * *

**(Day 14)**

* * *

My raging, boiling blood is about to erupt from my veins. Jasmine, _my _Jasmine, has been violated and all these men can do is laugh. Even the sight of a fellow Total Drama contestant makes me sick despite my state of awe. The fact that Duncan is _helping those _assholes is making me sick. My bunker has been breached, and I've lost everything. He speaks.

"So," Duncan asks me with a chuckle. "Got any good stories, 'cause I'm bored outta my fu-"

"You're from Total Drama?!" Jasmine gasps again. "We're from that show too!"

Duncan chuckles and pulls out a pocket knife before slamming it into the wooden table by his hip. "Really? I don't remember an amazon and a hipster from anywhere. Are ya' sure you're not tryin' to suck up, because I really don't care either way with you two in those chairs."

"We're not joking," Jasmine whines. "Right, Shawn!?" she asks me, begging for the desired answer.

I could tell the truth, but there's no way on an apocalyptic planet that he'd believe us without proof. But I tell him anyways with a simple "Yes."

"Well, maybe I'm thinking too close to home," Duncan yawns. "If McLean did a season while I was in prison, then I probably missed it. Still, that means nothing in your current situation."

"Please," Jasmine begs. "From one camper to another: help us. We can make up to ya' later if you need us too!"

"I've always liked Australian accents," Duncan smiles menacingly, trying to stray off-topic. I look him in the eye from my current position and growl.

"Look here, dude," I say with a hint of anger in my voice that represents a mere slice of my hatred. "I have the skills to survive. Jasmine has the skills to survive. You don't have the skills to survive. Help us out and we'll be able to help you out. Leave us to die and you're as good as walker chow!"

Duncan snorts with arrogance and laughs slightly as he continues to stab the table with his blade. "Is that what you buffoons call 'em? Walkers?"

"Yeah," I hiss. "Now stay on topic!"

"Dude, have you even _seen _one of those monsters? Have you?"

"No." I sigh and look over my memories of zombie games, shows, films, and the art of voodoo. I know what to expect.

Duncan leans in close to my face, only a few inches, and speaks directly to me as I feel Jasmine squirm. "These things are _runners_," he whispers, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Runners?!" I gasp in shock as adrenaline shoots through my veins like a burst of... fear. Everything I know about zombies says that they're slow and sluggish. It's science stuff, but the body can't move fast if it's decaying or it'll collapse in on itself.

"Runners," the delinquent in front of my confirms. "They're faster than me, and I'm faster than most of the pals in prison."

"How fast?" Jasmine panics from behind me. I can hear the teary sobbing in her voice and I can sense her fear. "How fast are they?"

Duncan shrugs. "Faster than two other shits in our group; these weren't fatties either."

As much as I want to slug Duncan in the face right now for being a part of this mess, I need his information while it's available and I'm not letting it slip away, no matter how much hatred has built up inside me. "What do they look like?" I ask solemnly, keeping my cool. "The walk, uh, runners, I mean?"

The young man spits on the ground and taps his knife against the wall. "Well, like a regular old person, just with... grey skin and... bloodshot eyes. The ones we saw looked like that at least. Who knows what happens after a few months?"

"Duncan," I ask. "How many did you see? Ten, twenty, a hundred?"

Duncan yawns and brings himself to his feet before rolling his eyes, visible only by the light of the lantern to our right. "Sorry," he says humorously. "I doubt my buds want to wait on me for dinner. We found I whole load of beans. Maybe I'll tell ya' tomorrow... if you last that long."

Anger erupts from my mouth as I feel the veins in my head swell and and eyes bulge. "No! You're telling us _now_!" I gasp for breath and hiss once more, but the man flips me off with a steady hand and closes us inside the kitchen with the creak of the door providing a nice source of ear ache.

"Shawn?" Jasmine groans with a sob.

"Yeah?" I sigh angrily, turning my body to get a glimpse of her darkened face. A few seconds of silence follow and I repeat my response with a bit more of a commanding tone.

"We have to do something... _Now_," she cries. "We have to do something. I don't know what, but we have to try!"

As much as it pains my soul to hear my love crying for help and knowing in my heart that we're boned for sure, I can't help but tell a small fib. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her from cracking even further, and the confirmation of a zombie apocalypse via Duncan was the worst thing for her fragile mind at this point. First came lockdown, then came the radio, and finally... Imprisonment in our own shelter: the bunker _I _blew half of my prize on in one fell swoop. But I lie. "We'll get out. I have a plan for everything, ya' know."

"But _what _do we do?" she asks in a stroke of desperation. "Those thugs are gonna kill us if we don't do something, and Duncan's not budging on helping us out. What... Do... we do?"

I feel anger flood my head again and finally snap at Jasmine with one single scream. "I DON'T KNOW!"

Jasmine silences herself and I sigh in despair at what I've said. I've never yelled at her like that before, and even though she's a tough gal, she's in a _very _dark place and I'm not helping.

I sit in the lantern's eerie glow as it's heat warms the right side of my face and my right side only. The other side, facing towards the danger of the outside, is cold and numb. Without our power from the sun, which I infer was destroyed by those monsters who've invaded our home, this bunker is hell waiting to happen. All it takes is one chance at escape, one bullet, and one death to ignite hell on earth. I'm not going to become caught in that, and I'm _certainly _not dragging Jasmine into the fire with me.

* * *

**(Day 15)**

* * *

I hear a knock at the kitchen door and open my eyes from a shitty night sleep to see Duncan walking inside. The glow of the lantern is slowly wearing thin, but I can make out something in his hands: a bowl.

"What is that?" I growl, waking Jasmine who shuffles behind me.

"Relax, dude. It's just a little nourishment for the time being." He smiles and shows me a bowl full of cooked beans, still steaming.

"Great," I groan sarcastically. "Ya' never get tired of those, do you?"

"Do ya' want 'em or not?" Duncan growls back. "I didn't have to give these to you, but if you'd rather starve than pl-"

"Here," Jasmine gasps. "Please."

As Duncan moves to Jasmine's side, I feel the metallic cable pushing against my hands that are tied down for safety and scoff. "How are we gonna eat without our hands? Like pigs?"

"Yes," Duncan says to me matter-of-factly. He turns to Jasmine. "Now, just be calm. I'm gonna hold this up to your face and you're gonna eat. Just don't do anything stupid or get beans in your nose."

"Not funny, dude. Just let us out!" I shout. It's futile, but I'm willing to try anything at this point.

"And risk a knife to eye? No way, dude." He lets Jasmine eat as I hear her engulfing mouthful after mouthful.

"Just eat, Shawn. It's fine," she begs between bites.

Even if I do eat, that only serves to animalize me further. I've already been strapped a chair and laughed at like a dancing monkey, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to eat like a hog. I choose to keep quiet.

Duncan takes the plate away from Jasmine and squats in front of me, a blank expression on his face that screams 'boredom.'

"Eat," he commands me. "I don't want to tell you again and I'm not spoon-feeding you like your _mommy_."

I think for a minute and say the only reasonable thing I can. "You're a prisoner, right?"

"What's it to ya?" he asks, a scowl on his face.

"You know what it's like to be forced into a cell everyday; to not know if you'll ever be the same when you get out, if you even get out at all. You know how if feels to be judged at first sight and never given a shot. You know what it's like to be fed like a pig at every meal. You know how it is in prison, so if you know what prison is and how horrible it is, then how could you put us, two _strangers_, in prison yourself? Think about it!"

Jasmine sighs behind me and I continue to stare Duncan in the eye. He stands up and puts the bowl of beans on the table. Either he's really pissed, or really depressed, because I changed him in some way, and I'm going to find out how.

"You think I enjoy doing this, don't you?" he groans. "Well, I have a surprise for you: I fuckin' _hate _it here with them," he continues with a whisper. "Jake is the worst human I know, but he's strong and formidable. He took six runners down _singlehandedly _without even a scratch. He's a safe zone, but only for his strength. He's dangerous, which can't hurt him but it can certainly hurt others. Let's just say... You shouldn't drop the soap around him."

"He didn't?" Jasmine gasps.

"More than once," Duncan whispers. "Jake is a psychopath on more than one level. Back in prison, he was called the _Backdoor Bandit_. I think you can guess why he was there in the first place. His toughness comes in handy, but the son of a bitch is a double-edged sword around other people. Listen, I'd help you if I could, but I can't risk it around him, so just do what he and the others say and you'll be fine. Got it?"

"You can't let him do that to me!" Jasmine squeals. "Please don't..."

"Jasmine," I sigh. "I won't let it happen to you." I know my promise is empty, but anger is building again, along with something else: hope. Duncan is on our side, but with Jake around, he's not worth the time.

"You won't be able to stop him from gettin' what he needs from you, but I might be able to keep your asses safe until this place runs dry. Then, we'll have to leave and maybe he'll be generous, if you're not dead by then."

"I'm not leaving the bunker," I say. "It's my home... My half a million dollar home."

Duncan raises an eyebrow and asks me where I got the money from, but then it hits him. "You... Won?"

"No. _We _won," I say throwing my head back and gesturing to Jasmine. "Together."

"Cool story," Duncan says, a look of melancholy on his face. "I'm sorry this happened to you, but there's nothing I can do." He walks outside and peaks inside again. "And just to let you know... There were twelve of 'em."

"Twelve what?" I ask, annoyed by his sudden revelation.

"Runners," he says before closing the door.

I look down once the door is closed and ponder.

"We're okay," Jasmine says without sobbing. "I think we have a chance now."

"Yeah," I say in agreement. "It's not much, but it's something." I turn my attention to the steaming bowl of beans Duncan left on the table and curse under my breath. "Shit. Maybe I should've waited until _after _I got fed to start monologuing?"

"No," Jasmine chuckles. "You did the right thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah... Those beans were terrible."

A chuckle escapes my mouth: the first in two weeks. It feels good to have a laugh, even in the darkest of times and places.

* * *

**~A/N~ I'm actually liking this thing now that Duncan entered the scene. Even though I hate the guy, I think I'm doing a good job with writing his character: someone with a good heart who's reluctant to show it from time to time, so tell me about my portrayal of Duncan in a review. ;)**

**And no... the zombies won't all be called runners in the story. I'm trying to stay somewhat original with my nomenclature.**


	6. Chapter 6: Chaos

**~A/N~ Chapter 6! And now with multiple POVs per chapter! I finally realized how STUPID I was to keep it at one per update, so now I can tell the story much better. Enjoy! And leave a review if you have anything to say. Let's try and get this to 20 of them with this chapter, guys! :D**

* * *

_Life Goes On: Chapter 6 - Chaos_

* * *

**(Day 18)**

* * *

**POV: Shawn**

I open my eyes as I see Duncan's body enter the room, followed by another pair of men. Neither of them is Jake though, so I know that I'm safer than I thought. Jasmine stirs behind me and I sigh in a tired voice. "What is it?"

Duncan smirks. "Jake needs your help with somethin' out here. He thinks you know something about some door at the end of the hall. Now, just stay still and don't do anything stupid, got it?"

Jasmine scoffs. "As if we're telling _you _anything, you scumbags!"

The man to right of Duncan sighs. He's wearing the same outfit as the other guys and has a short tuft of hair on his chin. It's at this time that I see a large knife in his hands. He notices me staring at it and laughs. "I ain't gonna use it on you yet. We just need to readjust you two."

The man leans down and begins hacking at the cords of wire surrounding our bodies until they're cut loose. I try to move his hands, but the second guy and Duncan grab me before I can get a punch in. They do the same to Jasmine and look us in our faces.

"Here's the deal, man," Duncan tells Jasmine and I. "You're gonna stay nice and peaceful and do everything Ol' Jake says. Un-"

"Got it," I hiss in his face. Suddenly, my trust of Duncan is faltering. I suppose seeing him man-handling the both of us is putting me in a state of anger, but I have to remain clung to the hope he's given us.

"Git!" the man with the beard grunts, shoving me ahead and out the door. The hallways are a mess. Trash and broken objects are scattered across the ground, visible only by the light of the lanterns placed at intervals through the corridors. I see empty cans of food reflecting the dim light as I slowly walk down the hall with my hands behind my back, held together by the older man. Even further behind me, I hear Jasmine grunting and trash rattling. I want to tell her to stop fighting and go along, but I know my words are futile now. Even if I was to speak up, I'd just be scolded, slapped, or worse.

I feel the man's hand smack into my back. "Move faster, asshole!" he shouts. "Jake ain't got all day."

Jasmine growls. "Don't touch him!" I cringe as I hear the sound of a smack and a whine that follows.

The other man hisses verbal poison to my ears. "Do that again and you'll get mo' than a slap. Now shut the hell up and walk straight!"

We both turn a corner in the hallway.

* * *

**POV: Jasmine**

As the man pushes me around the corner I feel his warm breath on my neck. Despite my rather large stature, he's managing to keep control over me because I have nothing left inside me. We went a few days in that kitchen without good food and very little water and I'm feeling it now. My muscles are moving, but there's a slight pain that accompanies every stride.

At the end of this hall rests a light surrounded by two dark figures, one incredibly buff and the other average sized. We get thrown to the ground in front of the two men and I hear the clicks of weapons behind me. Something cold touches the back of my head and I can only believe it to be the barrel of a firearm.

Shawn looks at me with a sorrowful face. There's no fear.

The average sized man walks forward and kneels down in front of me. It's Jake.

"Hey, beautiful. Tired?" He licks his lips and I see the insanity in his eyes. He's unstable and I know it. That means he's dangerous.

I glare into his eyes and snort, remaining silent until he shrugs. "Don't worry, I'm not."

Duncan walks out from behind us and rolls his eyes as he speaks to Jake. "Hey, dude, aren't you supposed to be finding that key?"

"I'm gettin' to it!" Jake growls back before settling in front of Shawn. "So," he smirks, inches from Shawn's tired face. "I found this, uh, door in the back end of this hole. It's locked and... I need to know what's behind it. How 'bout you spill, huh?"

"There's nothing you'd want," Shawn sighs. "It's just keepsakes in a closet. Pictures, collectables, luxuries..."

"I like luxuries," the madman chuckles. "So where's the key?"

"I don't know."

"That door was locked shut when we got here, now tell me where the key is or I put a bullet in the back of hot stuff over there."

The cold feeling pushes into the back of my head and Shawn gasps. My mind is racing with feelings of fear, but I feel so weak. I can't fight back and neither can Shawn. But I know I could run on adrenaline if in was forced to fight.

"I don't know," Shawn says again. "You ransacked this place. It could be anywhere!"

Jake breaks eye contact with him and looks at me. "She's very pretty. It'd be a shame to lose her before I could get a little taste of Australia, huh?"

"Don't touch her!" Shawn shouts, his eyes bulging. "Don't you dare!"

Jake stands up. "I'm afraid it's too late for begging. Robert, Duncan, take her to the bedroom!" he says to his cronies as I'm lifted off the ground and raised to my feet. I try to bite, kick, and attack, but I can barely move. The men, including Duncan, begin to walk me down the hall until Shawn breaks down.

"No!" he sobs. "I'll tell you! Don't hurt her, please! I'll tell!"

The men turn me around and walk me back, but keep me standing.

Jake smiles. "Where?"

Shawn pauses and huffs. "Kitchen drawer. Top shelf. There's a compartment in the bottom."

Jake looks my way. "Duncan. Fetch!"

I feel a pair of arms release my waist. "Sure thing, boss," Duncan yawns, walking off.

Jake looks back at Shawn. "You'd better not be fibbin' unless you got a death wish."

"It's there," my boyfriend sighs sadly. "I know it is."

Jake fiddles with his winter coat, stolen from us, and closes his eyes. "This place is nice. A bit cold, but nicer than out there."

I want to call him a monster, but I'm in shock and left speechless in the hands of the man named Robert.

"We didn't want to cut the power," Jake snickers. "We didn't know if y'all we're armed or not and, let's face it, it made takin' your place much easier." Moments of silence pass and he looks at Shawn. "Nothin' to say, little rat? Not a word? Not a 'fuck you' or anything?"

Shawn growls quietly and Jake chuckles.

"Found it," Duncan says from across the bunker, drawing everyone's attention. Shawn sighs as Jake pats him on the back. Duncan rounds the corner and hands the key to Jake. Here we go. He's about to open the weapons room.

* * *

**POV: Duncan**

I watch as Jake snatches the key out of my hand like a wild animal being handfed. He looks over it with a glow of ambition in his eyes and looks at me. I don't respond, even when he thanks me.

The douchebag looks at Shawn. "This it?" The boy nods.

I move behind Jasmine with a knife in my hand and look around her side, grabbing her wrists tightly, just to make sure she doesn't get too excited. As much as I'd love to see her and her man get away, I need this group and she'd only mess it up if she became too reckless.

Jake slides the key into the lock and wiggled it around. He speaks. "We tried kicking it down, but it's thick. You got more than shits an' giggles back there, don't you?" Before anyone can answer, the door opens with a loud creak. Jake holds up his lantern. Inside are hundreds of shimmering figures. Guns, knives, hatchets, axes, tools, swords, machetes. Hooks, saws, spears, lances, more guns, more knives, glass bottles, explosives. The list could go on forever.

Jake smiles and walks inside. "Stay there!" he demands of us. "Make sure those two stay put!" Then he motions for the buff man to watch the entrance as he takes a tour of the room.

I shrug and watch Jake feel over each individual weapon, one by one, trying to find his perfect match. He picks out a pistol and Shawn scoffs. "Not that one."

"Why?!" Jake growls.

"The revolver is better. You can load it faster and..." He stops mid-sentence as Jake sets his gun back on the rack and looks at Shawn before picking out a revolver from the shelf.

"Six shots?" the madman says in disgust.

"All it takes is one," Shawn sighs. "Just one."

"Thanks kid, but I have somethin' else that puts these pussy guns to shame," he says to the hipster. Jake reaches up and draws a samurai sword from it's sheath. "Infinite ammo."

"If it's sharp," Shawn scoffs. "If it ain't sharp you might as well be swinging a branch."

Jake sets down the sword and picks up a crowbar. "Universal tool, huh?"

"Bingo," Shawn sighs. "Great for bashing heads in and prying stuff apart. Terrible range though. Try again, dude."

I feel Jasmine's hands start to move and suddenly I'm flying over her shoulder and smashed onto the ground, deprived of my knife. When I look up, Jasmine has my blade to the throat of Robert. Shawn has grabbed the gun of the other dude whose name eludes me and has it at his head. Jake and his right hand man run to my side with the former holding a pistol and hisses. "Drop them, now!"

"No," Jasmine says. "We're done! Just let us leave and no one has to get hurt."

"What?!" Shawn gasps. "We're not leaving! They are!"

"I ain't goin' nowhere, assholes," Jake grunts. "Now put the shit down and back off. It's five to two and we have an entire room of guns."

I get to my feet and watch the two teens move towards the ladder at the edge of the entrance. Jasmine moves first with Shawn reluctantly following in her footsteps. The small alcove that houses the ladder could shield them from gunfire, but it won't be enough. I know I won't fire, but Jake has nothing to lose. He'll let loose upon the slightest movement.

"Just do it, Jake!" Robert sobs from Jasmine's tight grasp. "Don't make her-"

"Shut up!" Jake screams, his face popping with veins. "Drop the weapons or I'll shoot!"

I stand back as I see Shawn inching the gun away from the face of his hostage and toward Jake. This could be it.

Suddenly, gunfire erupts from Jake's handgun and Robert comes flying at us with red splattered across his torso. He crashes into Jake and brings the madman to the ground. Jake pushes him off and screams. "Stop them!"

I see Shawn's hostage on the ground with blood running down his neck and pick up the gun that Shawn must have dropped. Jake runs over to the alcove and aims his gun up the ladder, firing a burst of shots. "I got one!" he cheers. "Get something from the pile and get after them! _Now_!"

I sigh and look at my pistol. What just happened was a miracle on their side, but if what I know about Jake is true, they're gonna need more than shooting stars and hopes. I follow behind the three men, up the ladder and outside into the cold air. Our lanterns light the forest around us. In the distance, a faint crashing sound pings like radar to our ears. Whether or not I like it, it's hunting time.

* * *

**(Day 19)**

* * *

**POV: Shawn**

I wake up. It's cold. I'm in pain. I look down at my gunshot wound and see a cloud of red on my jeans. A strip of Jasmine's undershirt is wrapped around my leg to stop the bleeding. The forest is completely quiet, but not eerily quiet per se. I raise my upper body using my arms and look around. It's all coming back to me: the gunshot, the running, the killing, everything. It's at this time that I notice the absence of Jasmine around me. My mind races with thoughts of where she could be. Is she dead? Did she get caught to save me? Could she have been devoured by the walking corpses I have yet to see?

A bit of motion catches my eye from the bottom of the hill where I lay. Something is moving through the trees, but the forest is too thick to see it clearly and it disappears from sight.

Without warning, something touches my left shoulder and I jump, falling over and tumbling down the hill a few feet before hitting another tree.

"Shawn!" Jasmine grabs me and turns me over. I see her beautiful, mud stained face and smile.

"Are we safe?" I ask her, touching her cheek with my cold, numb hand.

"They stopped looking last night. They're out here somewhere, but I found I place to stay warm: a cave. And there's food too. Berries!" She lifts me up in her arms and carries me over the top of the hill. I look down and see the body of Jake's buff friend on the ground with a bullet hole between his eyes. Nothing has eaten on him yet, so that's good news.

As I'm carried through the woods I get time to think. I know I promised myself that I wouldn't leave my bunker, but I got caught in the moment and ran for it. The man had a gun and the numbers advantage, and even if Duncan had done something, it was still unlikely that we would have made it out together. My leg still hurts from the shot, but the bullet went through, so there's no need for any risky procedures yet.

"How far is it?" I ask Jasmine weakly, nearly dozing off.

"Just a bit."

The aching in my calf forces me to ask something. "We're going back, right?"

"I don't think so, Shawn. That place is gone for good."

"But there's medical supplies! What if this wound gets gangrene or worse?" Images of my leg rotting off slip into my mind as I begin to panic. "What if I turn in my sleep or get attacked and can't run?!"

Jasmine hushes me and sighs. "We're beaten. If we go back, they're gonna shoot us down. I know that bunker meant everything to you, but you just need to move on. We'll find a new shelter with good people and food and supplies and everything."

I close my eyes. "No, we won't. I've studied possible outbreaks and faster zombies are the worst for civilization. Unless a pre-crunch shelter is built, there's no getting one set up."

"Crunch?" Jasmine asks. "What's that supposed to be?"

I raise my head and look her in the eye. "The crunch is the time interval from infection to the end of military involvement. It normally lasts about two weeks on average. Remember the videos?"

Jasmine cringes. "I might've dozed off during a few of 'em."

"Yeah, I know," I sigh as we reach the entrance to this so-called cave, which is actually a hole in the side of a rocky wall that goes back a few feet before closing off.

"Well, this isn't much, but you can rest here while I go hunting and foraging." Jasmine sets me down inside and props me against a rock wall. She hands me berries she pulled from her pocket and I closely examine them.

"Don't worry, it's not toxic. I know my plants like you know zombies," Jasmine chuckles, trying to bring humor into our predicament. I can't help but smirk. "I guess I'll be back in an hour or so. Just stay quiet and off that leg. Okay?"

"No, stay here with me," I plead. "Just lay down beside me. Like the old days."

Jasmine looks me in the eye with a stern glare. "Shawn, you need rest and we both need food. It's just one hour or so. Do it for me; for _us_." She kisses me and holds my hand. "Trust me when I say that I can fend for myself. I'll be okay."

I reluctantly nod my head and she leaves, only looking back to wave. After she leaves my sights, I pull a berry from my hand and pop it into my mouth. It's juicy and sweet with a little sour, but it's food. I eat another, and another, and another until they're all gone. I look at the purple stains on my hands and then at the red stains on my pants, comparing the two shades, anything to pass the time. I start thinking of defenses and weapons, so I grab a handsized stone and run my cold hands over it's wet forms. The rock is oddly beautiful. It's shades of grey and brown twist and turn in ways that resemble puzzle pieces. I set it down on my lap and lean my head back on my bundled up cap that I quickly stuff behind me and close my eyes for a moment, taking in the silence.

* * *

**~A/N~ And now we're right back at the start! Hooray! This is where things should really take off, so I hope I keep getting better with organizing this story. Thanks for reading, and if you happen to leave a review, special thanks to you as well. Also, I'm heavily considering making this thing M-Rated, so if you're not following it yet and don't want to lose track of it if I change it, do so just in case. And if you can, tell me if it's worthy of the M-Rating so far. It will get bloody, but only about like The Walking Dead or any other zombie story. Thanks, and have a great day.**


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